


i hope you die (i hope we both die)

by LonesomeDreamer



Series: the adventures of an evil eye bastard and his lonely sea captain husband [7]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: LonelyEyes, M/M, he just does, jonah gets seasick very easily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonesomeDreamer/pseuds/LonesomeDreamer
Summary: in the middle of a divorce fight, jonah realizes that he's on peter's boat and they're in the middle of the sea. it doesn't take much for the seasickness to kick in.
Relationships: Peter Lukas/Jonah Magnus
Series: the adventures of an evil eye bastard and his lonely sea captain husband [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664716
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	i hope you die (i hope we both die)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is 100% based off of the song "no children" by the mountain goats. it's such a lonelyeyes song aaaa

“—and furthermore, you’ve proved yourself to be nothing but an incompetent bother and—”

“Is being a coward any better? When you’re finally dragged down to the depths of where you belong, I hope you suffer!”

“You know I belong here, with as much power as I can gather! You couldn’t care less, though. Could you? And that shirt! No shirt, turtleneck or not, should be made in such an—an unsightly color!”

They were at it again.

The whole of the crew, aware of the screams and violent shouting echoing from the Captain’s quarters, had chosen to make themselves quite absent. Not a soul could be seen on-deck, and the halls beneath were empty; angry footsteps, rattling the floorboards, scared the want to move out of any concerned sailors.

“I simply do hate you, you know,” Jonah remarked snidely, poking at a glass vase and languidly watching the object fall to the floor. He folded his arms over his chest, not quite hiding the shimmering eye pin in his cravat. “In fact, I’ve half a mind to walk out that door and get another divorce.”

Peter didn’t even afford the glass shards so much as a glance. “Oh, you will? Well, let it be known that I can’t stand you or your stupid suits or your obsession over yourself! I’d much rather die alone, thank you, and you’re making this easier for me.”

Glaring at the Captain with two half-glowing blue eyes, Jonah angrily turned on his heel and strode towards the door. He ran a hand through his brunet hair, slicking it back, and started up the stairs.

“I’m not coming back, you know!” he called out behind him. “Go ahead and—”

The older gentleman paused, looking around. He swallowed hard; the color drained from his face, and he suddenly appeared quite ill.

“...ah. Ocean,” he mumbled.

Indeed, the ship had long been out to sea. All that could be observed, all around the ship, consisted of choppy waves and the white bubbles of sea foam atop each wave’s peak. Somehow, this had entirely escaped Magnus’ mind; the argument between himself and Peter had been so scathing, and he had thrown himself so into it, that he had completely forgotten he was on a ship.

_Water. All the way around. No land in sight, nothing to hold, no la—_

An expression of regret and distaste upon his face, Jonah doubled over and vomited all over his own shoes—a lovely pair of black leather oxfords. He clutched at his stomach, retching and swaying as the remnants of his last meal—lunch had been roasted salmon, with various sides, and he’d had a few glasses of wine before having one slice of tart and then another and then finishing Peter’s even as the other man teased him for putting on a few kilograms, which was entirely a _lie_ that had been made up just to _humiliate_ him—left the inside of his body from the same hole they’d entered the earthly vessel through. He wiped at his mouth pathetically, cringing as he pulled his sleeve away to find the disgusting red-orange tinge of vomit all over the white cuffs. A few little bits had been missed; these dribbled down his chin and onto his clothes, staining them. His whole body was shaking violently.

Jonah became distinctly aware, even through the haze of nausea, that there was someone next to him; the hand that was swiftly set upon his shoulder was instantly recognized by him as being one of Peter Lukas’ hands.

“We’re on a ship,” Lukas said gently.

“Yes, ship,” Jonah muttered annoyedly, rolling his eyes. “We _must_ get back to—”

Another round of vomiting cut him off; the older man’s knees gave out, and he leaned up against Peter for support. Frantic, vomit-stained hands scrabbled for a hold on the Captain’s turtleneck. The forest green, which had earlier seemed so garish and unsightly to Magnus, proved to be a solid source of visual grounding.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” Peter sighed quietly, rolling his eyes before hoisting Jonah into his arms. “I’ve got extra suits for you in the closet. And there’s broth around.”

Jonah could barely even provide a whimper in response, so suddenly seasick was he. He resorted to burying his face in Peter’s chest and crying quiet, miserable tears.

By the time they made it to the bedroom, the brunet man found himself feeling remarkably sleepy. He yawned quietly, curling up somewhat as he was laid beneath the covers.

Peter pulled the comforter up under Jonah’s chin before kissing him on the forehead and turning to find any needed essential items.

“I hate you,” Jonah mumbled. “I abhor your stupid boat and your stupid—”

“Mind who’s holding the tools,” Peter laughed somewhat evilly. “And I don’t think we can process two divorces in one day.”

His words fell on deaf ears; Magnus had already fallen asleep. With a sigh, the Captain went off in search of food and blankets.

“...stupid,” he muttered, rolling his eyes yet again. “My darling horrible Jonah Magnus…”


End file.
